


felt this way for far too long

by aimerai



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Pining, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/pseuds/aimerai
Summary: “So it might be my fault that our parents think we’re dating,” Mat admits.“You told them we were dating?” Dante asks, and he sounds kinda pissed. Mat doesn't blame him, because that would be a shitty thing to do without even talking to Dante about it.“No! I wish it were that easy, though,” Mat says, thoroughly miserable, because chances are that nothing between him and Dante is going to be the same after this. He just wanted to pine, but unfortunately his parents, and Dante’s parents, and fucking Christmas were all conspiring against him. He thinks he might start crying and that’s horrifying on its own because Mat doesn’t cry; he’s a hockey player and he’s better than that, except apparently not.





	felt this way for far too long

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:** fake dating!!!! “we’re only pretending to be a couple for my family on Christmas but someone just put a mistletoe over us what do i do-”

****“I think my parents think we’re together,” Dante says, ruining Mat’s life in seven words. His cellphone is propped on something at his desk so that he and Mat can FaceTime, and he’s scowling at his notebook while scribbling equations. Mat knows that Dante felt like he had to go NCAA, found out the hard way just how serious Dante was about it, but he still doesn’t see how all the schoolwork is worth it. Dante’s fallen asleep during calls doing homework more often than Mat can count.

“Really?” Mat says, his heart starting to race. He wants to say it’s panic but it’s hope, traitorous and unwanted.

“Yeah,” Dante says, looking up from his homework to make a face at Mat, visibly uncomfortable, before going back to his math. “It’s—they kept dropping hints about bringing you home for Christmas, with like, emphasis on bringing you home. And they’re being—they’re not outwardly weird about you, but since…”

Dante cuts himself off. He’s biting his lip and focusing too intently on his homework, but Mat can still tell that he’s flushing. He doesn’t need to finish that sentence; Mat already knows, and it’s still a sore spot. Mat tries to keep his emotions off of his face and frowns a little. “So they didn’t say anything outright?”

Dante looks up at Mat and shakes his head. “They wouldn’t, but it’s—I don’t know, I don’t like it. Can we stop talking about it, please?”

And Mat knows Dante isn’t like him, but it hurts anyway. Hope’s a fucking bitch, and feelings are whatever’s the boss level of fucking bitch. Infinitely worse. Or maybe it just feels that way to Mat. He’d ask Dante but it would lead to an awkward conversation and Mat’s not sure he’s really ready for it now, might not be ready for it ever. Something in his chest feels loose, like it’s falling and about to shatter on the floor, and Mat really, really, really fucking hates hope. Or feelings. Or both. He’s not sure what’s to blame for his emotional highs and lows, when he knows Dante never means things in the way that they come out, and he’s not aware, at all, of how much Mat feels all the time, even though it’s his fault that Mat feels that much all the time.

“Mat?” Dante asks, and he’s looking up again, and tapping the end of his pen against his lower lip, and this is so unfair.

Mat musters up a smile. “Just wondering what I should tell you about.”

“All of it,” Dante answers immediately, eyes fixed on Mat, completely earnest. Mat wonders how Dante ever gets anything done when it seems like he’s always looking at Mat instead of his homework. “Dude, I always want to know how you’re doing.” And then he turns bright red, because that’s just his face, and that was also more honest than the two of them usually are. The sinking thing in Mat’s chest is fluttering again.

“Okay, okay, let me tell you about what Tito did yesterday,” Mat says, and his smile feels natural now, watching Dante smile back at him and make noises in all the appropriate places, and once, throw back his head and laugh, his face quickly turning red. He quickly forgets the way their conversation started. It’s a mistake, but hindsight’s 20/20.

* * *

 It’s not relevant again, until about two weeks later, where it’s terrifyingly relevant, and Seids is watching Mat in vaguely amused concern, because his kids are tattletales, and Mat lying upside down on the couch is something they found tattle-worthy. Mat even crossed his legs and everything so that he’s still in polite guest territory; he just needed the blood rushing to his head to drown out the overwhelming sense of panic.

“Do I want to know?” Seids asks, and scratch what Mat thought earlier, Seids is definitely more amused than concerned.

“I don’t have to think very hard like this,” Mat says.

“I already took a picture; I just need to make sure you’re not actually having a crisis,” Seids says, like it’s any sort of explanation. It kinda is.

Mat tries to shrug, but it’s hard to do that properly. “It’s not going to be a problem.” It’s an answer and also not an answer, because Seids looks out for Mat and opened his house to Mat, but if Mat says he has a crisis, Seids is going to want to know, and Mat’s selfish. He doesn’t want to tell anyone about the thing in his chest that comes alive when he’s talking to Dante.

Seids is definitely amused, and definitely hit send on that photo, if the buzzing of Mat’s phone, on the floor next to his head, means anything. “I’m going to ask you to come right side up now, I think you’ve done your not-thinking for enough.”

Mat considers disobeying, but his head feels pretty heavy, so he gets up, swaying a little as all the blood leaves his head. Seids might have had a point.

“Whatever’s going on, you’ll be fine,” Seids says, and it’s supposed to be reassuring, but it isn’t, because Dante is definitely going to figure Mat out unless Mat figures out what the fuck he’s going to tell Dante, because the idea he currently has is bad, but it’s the only thing Mat can think of that doesn’t make him want to die just thinking about it.

“Nothing’s going on,” Mat lies. “I’m just bored.”

“Sure,” Seids says, and it's obvious he doesn't believe Mat, but he's not pushing it and that's good enough. Everything about this situation is a good enough type of thing.

“I'm going to my room,” Mat informs him, and does just that, even though he’s pretty sure Seids just muttered something unflattering about Mat that involved the word tantrum.

He also decides to rip off the bandaid and call Dante, who’s one of four numbers in Mat’s favourites, and the only one who isn’t family- or emergency-related. He flops onto the bed as he dials, and considers laying down on the floor, like it’ll make things better. Laying on the floor is pretty fucking baller, but he already did the upside down on the couch thing and he’s going to have to wear Dante down until he says yes, which is not ideal, or die, so the floor isn’t actually going to be that comforting.

“Hi Mat,” Dante says right after he’s picked up, and Mat knows he’s smiling and it sucks that he won't the second Mat starts talking.

“So, remember when you said your parents thought we were dating?” Mat says, biting the bullet. He sounds so fake. Like, he sounds like himself, but not what he would sound like if he ever talked about the Dante situation, because the Dante situation is not something he’s ever talked about. The closest he came was at World Juniors, maybe, way too late at night and wrung dry, but he was just giving advice. He never actually said what he’d been thinking, the ‘ _I’ve been there_ ’ just not making it out of his mouth, because being in love with your best friend is terrifying.

There’s a long silence. Mat is really hoping that Dante didn’t hang up on him.

“That was weeks ago,” Dante says finally. He doesn't sound happy and Mat’s already fucked it up.

“Pretty sure mine do, too,” Mat says, because it’s better than the alternative, the part where Mat’s parents have been tiptoeing around talking about Dante for months, because they know, or think they know. They’re not really that off, not about Mat. “I just learned that we’re going to have a combined Christmas dinner. Or at least, my mom is pushing for one with your parents.”

Dante’s quiet for a long moment. “Did you even try to stop them?”

What a loaded fucking question. Of course Mat tried to stop them, and of course, it wasn’t fucking going to work, because the second he admits that he’s not dating Dante, the matchmaking will begin, and there's no surer way to break his heart. “No, of course not. This is fucking hilarious,” Mat lies through his teeth.

“Mat,” Dante says tiredly.

“Look,” Mat says, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. “Let them think it’s true. Make it a lesson in why not to assume things and why they should listen to you when you tell them things. We’ll make nice for Christmas, and then stage a dramatic, awful breakup.”

“You’re serious about this,” Dante says. “You think we can successfully fool our parents into thinking we’re dating, and then we can break up, and things will be okay afterwards?”

“They already think we’re dating,” Mat reminds him, his heart squeezing painfully. It’s—none of this is _fair_. “There’s no fooling; we just act like we always do and they’ll totally eat it up.”

Dante sighs, very audibly. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure,” Mat says, crossing his fingers. “But just saying, I’m going to be the best damn boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“You don’t even know who your competition is,” Dante teases, except it is absolutely not funny, and Mat wants to go back to dying. He didn’t even know there was competition, and now there are these faceless guys out there that Mat can only think his jealousy at. He bets none of them know Dante like he does, and none of them could ever mean as much as Mat does to Dante, but like, Mat hates competition. He wants to be the fucking best, even though this is all a hypothetical situation.

“Competition? Dude,” Mat says, and he sounds—actually, really offended.

Dante’s laughing though, so at least Mat isn’t that transparent. “I’ll think about it. No promises, though.”

“That's all I wanted,” Mat says, crossing his fingers behind his back again even though Dante isn't there to see him. It's the very opposite of what he wants, but Mat is supposed to be chill and not this. “How's school?”

“You sound just like my mother,” Dante says after a slight pause, already sounding lighter. “School’s school; there's nothing to it, Mat.”

“You know I just want to know how you're doing,” Mat reminds him.

“Still sound like my mother,” Dante chirps. He's such a little shit.

“Well, your mother cares about you,” Mat says lamely, trying his best not to follow it up with ‘I _care about you_.’

Dante laughs, and he sounds so much freer now that they’re not talking about the potential fake dating thing. Mat’s a fucking monster. “Yeah, yeah. Nothing ever changes and I know you screenshot almost all my Snaps, you total freak.”

“Hey,” Mat protests weakly. He really shouldn’t, but it’s too hard not to, especially when Dante’s in them.

“It’s okay; I know you’re just trying to live your college life vicariously through me,” Dante teases, which is much better than the truth.

Mat swallows the truth and keeps digging himself a deeper hole of stupidity. He’s just making this so much worse for himself; someone needs to stop him from ever speaking to Dante again, except not actually, because Mat will die. “So remind me again, your finals are coming up right around now, right?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dante says, but he’s laughing and it makes Mat smile too.

God, he is so _fucked_.

* * *

 Dante brings it up again three phone calls and three days later. “We’re doing this, then?”

“Doing what?” Mat asks, because their last conversation had been Dante explaining his homework to Mat, and Mat is not involved in homework. Sometimes he’ll let Dante bounce ideas off of him for papers or written responses and that is the extent of it. Dante usually tells him he’s not completely useless, but he’s probably just being nice.

“Christmas,” Dante says, his voice totally neutral.

Oh. Right. That thing where Mat is being a total monster who’d rather fake date Dante than man up and explain that he’s not dating Dante. Or tell Dante his feelings, because that’s an option, even if it’s the kind of option that makes Mat want to do bag skates every day for the rest of his life.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” Mat says, because as much as the alternatives would suck, forcing Dante into this would suck even more.

“You had a good point,” Dante says, but his voice sounds tight as fuck, the way it does when he’s stressed and trying to pretend he isn’t.

Mat knows he’s fucked up. “Dante. Don’t lie to me; I can hear how fucking stressed you are.”

Dante sighs heavily and Mat hears something that sounds like his head repeatedly hitting something. “Mathew Michael. It’s getting close to the end of classes and I have way too many assignments. I don’t know how not to be stressed.”

Mat’s not sure he buys it. “You know you don’t have to, like, pick up my calls if I’m cutting into your studying time?” he says, even though the thought of it makes him feel like an ice cold fist is wrapping around his heart.

“You are literally the only thing making all this even halfway tolerable; don’t you dare,” Dante says vehemently. “If I didn’t have you to distract me, I think I’d have sunk into a stress coma by now.”

Mat’s going to cry; this is too much. He knows his voice sounds kinda choked up when he speaks. “You’re never going to get rid of me now.”

“I mean, you’re my boyfriend,” Dante says nonchalantly, like it’s not going to make Mat’s heart die. Mat’s pretty sure he didn’t expect Mat to start choking, because he follows it up with a, “Please don’t die, what the fuck.”

“A little warning would have been appreciated,” Mat wheezes.

“What do you call the beginning of this phone call, then?” Dante asks, and he’s definitely laughing at Mat, the little shit.

Mat coughs a couple more times. “You distracted me with your assignments stress.”

Dante still hasn’t stopped laughing. Mat wishes he could see his face, and how red his cheeks would be getting, right about now, but they’re calling the old-fashioned way, instead of FaceTiming. Mat misses him so much. “You’re going to have to work on boyfriend abilities; can’t have you dying just because I called you mine.”

Someone should just mercy-kill Mat right now. Why did he think pretending to be Dante’s boyfriend would be easy and not a constant assault on his heart? He wasn’t prepared. He isn’t going to be prepared for Christmas, and having Dante call him his in person.

“You just surprised me,” Mat protests for the sake of protesting. Never mind that it’s the truth and he’s ready to hyperventilate about Dante calling Mat his for the next week. “I’ll be ready for Christmas, sugar plum.”

He cringes right after he says it, his face feeling far too hot, but it’s too late. “Sugar plum?” Dante says, between gasps of laughter. “ _Sugar plum_?”

“What would you rather I call you? Darling? Sweetheart? Buttercup? Baby?” Mat asks. Hopefully his voice sounds normal and not like this is the reason he’s going to die. His brain apparently doesn’t think fast or well when it comes to Dante, but that’s not much of a surprise, is it?

“Babe works fine,” Dante croaks. His laughter had died pretty quickly the second Mat had started throwing pet names at him.

“So then I’ll see you for Christmas, babe, and you’re totally going to ace the shit out of those exams,” Mat says, his voice sounding grossly fond even to himself. He’s really played himself this time. If he doesn’t get a handle on this, Dante is going to know the second him and Mat start their charade.

There’s a short silence, and when Dante responds, his voice is pretty soft. “Thanks, Mat. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“It’s a date,” Mat says, even though it’s not.

Dante’s voice has somehow gotten even softer. “You might not even need to practice that much. Till tomorrow, darling.”

And Mat knows Dante’s just chirping him, but his heart still flips over in his chest. They’re playing fake boyfriend chicken, except there’s nothing fake about it for Mat. “Don’t stay up too late doing homework; I love you,” he says, his mouth totally disconnected from his brain, and then hangs up in a panic.

His phone buzzes about a minute later: _love you too c u tmr_. It’s followed by a single red heart emoji. Mat stares at his phone until his screen goes black, his heart pounding.

* * *

Dante looks surprised to see Mat at his door on a Wednesday afternoon, but it’s not just any Wednesday afternoon. The Islanders play Boston tomorrow, and they’re supposed to be flying out slightly later today, but Mat’s had this date in his calendar since he knew what their schedule was, and booked a flight ticket the day after Dante agreed to his fake dating scheme, all of two days ago. Mat gets extra time with Dante this way, and considering the whole fake dating; that’s a good thing. Also. Mat just really wanted to see Dante, which is the real reason, not that he can tell Dante that.

“Am I dreaming?” Dante asks, blinking confusedly from behind glasses. It’s cute, but also concerning.

“Is there any specific reason you should be dreaming at 3pm on a Wednesday? And like, dreaming about me?” Mat asks. He’s trying so hard not to smile, because he’s supposed to be at least somewhat chill, but Dante’s surprise is fading away, and Mat’s pretty sure he’s happy about this.

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” Dante asks, pulling Mat into his dorm room and shutting the door, wrapping him in a hug that’s surprisingly tight for something that’s also over really fast.

Mat shrugs, looking down at his shoes instead of at Dante. “Just wanted to see you.”

Dante grins. “Cool, you saw me; now leave.”

“I hate you,” Mat says.

He doesn’t mean it, and Dante knows that, because his grin widens and he pushes his glasses up his nose. Mat didn’t even know he still wore them and honestly, Mat would like it if he looked less good in them, although that might just be a sign of how gone he is. Mathew Barzal, totally whipped for someone he’s not even dating, although the years of friendship should definitely count for something. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?” Dante asks, teasingly, but he looks a little hesitant, too.

“Oh my god,” Mat groans, so he doesn’t have to focus on whatever is happening to his heart. “Are you seriously already on my case? I’ve been here for two minutes.”

Dante looks at Mat and rolls his eyes. “Mat. Seriously, it’s a good idea. I tried to deny it to my parents and they didn’t buy it at all. They were all ‘it’s okay, sweetie, we know how you feel about _that boy_ ; we really should have put it together earlier.’”

“ _That boy_?” Mat asks, his voice strangled. He doesn’t know if he’s going to laugh or cry.

Dante snorts. “You can take off your coat and shit—actually, don’t; I was going to get food. Yeah, they call you _that boy_ half the time, and they’ve done that since I almost derailed all their plans for me because of you. Christmas is going to be funny as fuck.”

Mat winces a little, because that was a big bump in the road that Dante’s turning into nothing, but Dante looks pleased, already reaching for his coat, hung over his chair, and taking off his glasses, folding them and putting them on top of the open textbook on his desk. Mat’s going to miss them; he looked good in them, even if he only had them on in front of Mat for all of five minutes, if even that. “I didn’t know you still wore glasses,” Mat blurts out, because apparently he has no self-control.

“I don’t. They’re just for while I’m studying. Why, don’t you like them, babe?” Dante teases, back to being Mat’s boyfriend.

“Honestly, they look good on you,” Mat says, too honestly, his throat dry.

Dante’s entire face turns several very delightful shades redder. “I—what the fuck, Mat?”

“I’m just being a good boyfriend,” Mat says, and Dante turns even redder. He’s so cute; Mat can barely stand it. “Anyway don’t we have a date?”

“A date?” Dante asks, shrugging into his coat, still blushing furiously. It’s just his face, Mat reminds himself.

“We’re going out for food; that’s a date, isn’t it, babe?” Mat says, laying it on thick, before he gets another idea. “We can even take photos for your parents.”

Dante buttons up his coat, smiling. “No thanks; I want you all to myself right now. They can find out later.”

Mat’s smiling back at Dante, because Dante makes it hard not to. It’s only a few extra hours but it’s so worth it, fuck. “Oh, hey, do you want tickets for tomorrow?”

“Excuse you, do you think I wouldn’t have already bought tickets to see you?” Dante asks, opening the door.

Mat nods. “Right; it’s part of your good boyfriend duties.”

Dante rolls his eyes at Mat for the second time in the last ten minutes, and shuts the door again. “No, stupid, I already had tickets for you, because it’s you. The fake dating doesn’t even factor. You’re such a fucking moron; I can’t believe I actually like you.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? I know you said you had a lot of assignments,” Mat says. “Like, you don’t have to come, or take me out, or whatever. I’m okay with chilling while you study.”

Dante sighs and puts his hands on Mat’s shoulders, getting right into Mat’s space. For half a second, Mat has a vivid fantasy about Dante kissing him, no matter how improbable it is, but what Dante tells him makes him feel warm and fond and gross anyway. “Don’t be stupid. I can take a break for you; you’re always worth it.”

Mat just knows he’s blushing horribly, but Dante is too. They both suck at being honest with each other, apparently, if expressing something this basic makes them both this embarrassed. That’s definitely the reason why Mat’s smile is softer than it should be. “Well, I’m still treating you.”

Dante frowns at Mat. “Hey, no, you’re the one visiting.”

“Dante. Please,” Mat says. It’s just food and they can both afford it, but it’s the principle of the thing, because Mat doesn’t know how else to show his appreciation without doing something intensely not bros.

“Okay,” Dante says softly. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

Mat’s blush was just dying down but now it’s back in full force, as the two of them start heading out of Dante’s dorm. “I got a flight to bring me here right out of practice; I just have to be back at the hotel with everyone in the evening.”

“But I still get you for dinner, right?” Dante asks, thankfully ignoring just how ridiculous Mat has been so far today.

However, Mat would like to have a word with Dante about his word choice, but he thinks Dante has already realised it, considering that his face is flushing again. “Yeah, babe, you’ve got me however you want me,” Mat says, because he can’t not, and it’s weirdly freeing, to be able to flirt with Dante and have it get thought of as part of the charade. Just because it’s true and he said it doesn’t mean Dante’s going to believe it for true, and that’s sort of ideal, really. Mat’s already accidentally confessed his love; there’s no easy way to be worse than that, even if he’s pretty sure that he’s going to beat it on Christmas.

Dante is flushing even more, to the point that he starts walking on without Mat. This is good; they’re still them, even with the added layer of fake dating.

* * *

It’s been about two more weeks of Mat adjusting to Dante acting like Mat is, for all intents and purposes, his boyfriend, and it’s killing him. Those few hours in Boston had already been a lot, but that was before they were really comfortable with it, still treating the fake dating as a joke. Now, there’s a layer of sincerity there that’s getting to Mat; it’s easier every time to pretend Dante is his boyfriend. He answers Dante’s FaceTime request and immediately wishes he hadn’t. He’s not prepared for Dante in bed, looking super cozy in a threadbare BU shirt, with earphones in. Mat wants to join him, probably still could if they were in the same place, considering that they’ve never had too many boundaries about that kind of thing, a side effect of growing up in each other’s pockets.

“Hey, is this a good time for you?” Dante asks, like he doesn’t know that Mat would bend over backwards to do anything for him.

He doesn’t know how much power he has over Mat, so Mat looks guiltily at the TV before turning it off. Video games can wait; Dante’s here now. Mat can deal with Tito’s questions-disguised-as-chirping about flaking on him tomorrow. Hell, he can just say he fell asleep if he has to. The chirping would be worth it.

“I’m all yours, babe,” Mat says, the endearment passing naturally from his lips. It’s going to be really hard to go back to normalcy after Christmas is over, and that’s a shit thought, so Mat boxes it away to think about never.

“I keep seeing equations when I close my eyes, and also I missed you; please tell me what you’ve been up to,” Dante says, resettling his head.

Mat frowns. “Isn’t the first day of exams day after tomorrow?”

Dante nods. “Yeah. I don’t even know why I’m freaking out; it’s not like they’re my first exams. It just feels more intimidating, now that it’s not general stuff?”

“You’re going to kill it,” Mat affirms. “You know your shit. You made me quiz you and you were getting most of it right. I know you’re worried, but like, we talk all the time. You’re fine.”

“Thanks, Mat,” Dante smiles at him, and while he looks sleepy, he also looks wired in a way that he really shouldn’t, this late at night.

“Did you drink caffeinated coffee past four?” Mat asks, frowning.

Dante looks away from Mat for only a second, but it’s all the confirmation he needs. He looks so fucking guilty. Mat frowns harder at him. “Dude. Stop drinking caffeine; you need to actually rest.”

“Yes, mother,” Dante says dryly, but the tiredness in his voice takes any bite out of it.

Mat tries not to pout and he’s pretty sure he fails. “I’m just looking out for you; I worry. You know I worry.” He must be tired, too, if he’s telling Dante these things.

“I know you worry,” Dante says. “It was a mistake; I forgot to order decaf, but I want to fall asleep, and you’re good at that. If you don’t have the time, it’s fine, but—”

“I have the time,” Mat says immediately. “What do you want me to tell you about this time?”

“You; I feel like I’ve been doing all the talking our last few calls with my finals stress and I really do want to know how you’re doing,” Dante says.

Mat smiles at him, touched despite himself. “You know how hockey is, but I’ll try my best.”

“You don’t have to try,” Dante mumbles.

Mat’s blushing; he knows he is, but he ignores it, launching into a story about the pranks he’s been playing on Ebs. It’s a good story to tell; he has Dante’s sleepy laughter as Mat fills him in on all the shenanigans, and it’s a long one, and it’s easy to launch into a dozen different stories from there, filling Dante in on all the things he’s missed. Mat doesn’t know how Dante feels about it, but when Dante fills him on stories of what he’s been up to, it helps Mat feel like he’s more a part of Dante’s life. He hopes it’s the same for Dante; he knows it’s irrational but Mat’s always afraid of them drifting away from each other, and becoming two people who know way too much about each other. That's his worst nightmare, that one day Dante might be a stranger, even though they talk at least once a week and therefore it’s an irrational fear.

Mat blinks and refocuses on his phone screen, not entirely sure what he’d been telling Dante about, not that it matters. Dante’s finally asleep, breathing evenly, and he looks soft and peaceful. Mat really needs to get a handle on all his fucking feelings, because if Dante were awake now, he’d have seen it in an instant, how disgustingly fond Mat is, leaking feelings everywhere. Mat takes a screenshot before ending the call, adding it to his favourite photos, but also texting it to Dante with a _good night sleeping beauty_ and one red heart emoji, because it’s become their thing.

* * *

Being back home is weird when he's only going to be there for about three days and not even that, but he wakes up on Christmas morning with a sense of dread. Him and Dante are pros at sounding affectionate and in love, but Christmas dinner means holding hands and doing it in person and really selling it. Mat helps his mother in the kitchen, although he probably isn’t all that helpful, and the way his mother keeps looking at him and opening her mouth like she wants to say something is making Mat anxious. Almost an hour out from when the Fabbros are coming over, Mat tells her that he was going to pick up Dante so they could go see the lights together, as a way of excusing himself. She looks a little like she wants to coo at him and rapidly shoos him off, and it’s almost gratifying, especially when you consider that Mat doesn’t get much time at home with the NHL schedule. This entire thing is Mat’s family making a huge concession, and if he keeps thinking about that he’s going to sink into a pit of guilt, so he forcefully shoves it out of his mind.

He changes into a sweater he bought specifically for Christmas even though he’s really more of a sweatshirt guy and spends the drive to Dante’s house panicking. Now that it’s here, Mat’s pretty sure this is an awful, terrible, no-good idea, but he’s already all in and at Dante’s house. There’s no way to take this back without coming clean; the only way out is through, even if it’s going to kill Mat in the process.

Dante scrambles into the car like the hounds of hell are after him, before Mat can even text him that he’s here. “Older sisters are the fucking worst,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest and slouching in his seat.

“What are they giving you shit for now?” Mat asks, already peeling away as fast as he can.

“What do you think, moron? You, you, and more you, obviously,” Dante says, slowly untensing the farther Mat drives from the Fabbro house. “I want to unhear some of that, fuck.”

“That bad?” Mat asks, wincing in sympathy. Sisters, man.

Dante rolls his eyes. “Insufferable. Like, I’m glad they think it’s cute and they saw it coming or whatever, because it’ll make Christmas easier, but I could do without the rest.”

The way he’s turning pink and refusing to look at Mat implies that at least one of Dante’s sisters said something suggestive. That’s nice. “So which one asked if we were going to have car sex?” Mat asks, because he can, and because Dante will flush even more.

“I—no. No, I am not telling you because you will convince her we did and then I will never hear the end of it,” Dante says, and he’s crossed his arms again, except now he’s pouting. It’s cute, and Mat is never, ever going to tell him that because it’s soft as fuck and Mat has like, a reputation to uphold. Mat is also going to ignore that he was right, because otherwise he’s going to combust.

“But Dante, I’m your boyfriend,” Mat teases. “We’re both consenting adults.”

“You’re the actual worst. This was the worst idea ever. I’m breaking up with you,” Dante says, attempting a flat monotone.

“Will you change your mind if I bribe you with Tim’s?” Mat asks, just as he pulls into the drive-thru.

Dante smiles for the first time since he saw Mat and it’s pretty fucking great. “I want a—”

“Dude,” Mat says, as judgmentally as he can manage. “I know what you want.”

“Do you?” Dante asks.

Mat rolls his eyes. “Yes, I do. You’re predictable and I’ve known you forever, of course I know your coffee order.”

“I might’ve changed my mind,” Dante argues.

Mat snorts. “We’re hockey players; we don’t change our minds.”

“Well, we’re the next in line, so prove it,” Dante says, and they really are; Mat hadn’t noticed that they were coming up so quickly. Mat says their orders with the cockiest smirk he can manage, because he knows he’s right, and judging from the way Dante is sitting with his arms crossed, his face red, he definitely was right. Dante sulks, or whatever he’s doing that looks an awful lot like sulking, in the seat next to him, until they pull into the parking lot and both grab their drinks out of the holder.

“I can’t believe our first argument as a couple was over whether you knew what I’d want from Tim’s,” Dante says, opening the tab and blowing gently on his coffee.

Mat snorts. “We’re not really dating, one, and two, I totally did, so like. Suck my dick.”

“I’m not that easy,” Dante says, and now Mat’s thinking about it, which is not great considering the circumstances, but Dante pushes it to not-awkward as quickly as he can, even though he’s bright red. It’s just his face; Mat knows it’s just his face. “Anyway, game plan?”

“Do we need one?” Mat asks. “I mean, your sisters are sold, and my mom’s reaction when I told her I was taking you out to see the lights was…” Mat trails off. He doesn’t know if he wants to share that; the way his mom had looked proud and emotional and a hundred other emotions.

Dante lets that digest for a moment. “Okay. Should we have a story, though?”

“Of what, how we got together?” Mat asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure our parents are going to make up a story for us, anyway, and all we have to do is look like we love each other and make small changes to what they think happened.”

“You really think it’s that easy?” Dante asks.

Mat shrugs. “Isn’t it? Does it matter how we asked each other out? Maybe I totally lost it last year, realising we were on the same coast and nearer to each other than before, and asked you out after the home game in Boston. Maybe we’ve been together, or working our way to it, ever since your parents started referring to me as _that boy_. It’s the same story either way.”

Both of those things are far truer than they should be; Mat needs to be a better liar. Dante’s looking at Mat like he’s suddenly seeing all of Mat’s wanting, all of these emotions that form a complicated tangle of feelings in his chest, but he doesn’t say anything after that, the two of them sipping their coffee in the parking lot until Mat’s mom calls and asks them to pick up extra bottles of wine. It wasn’t a bad silence, though, and Mat misses it, draining the rest of his coffee and putting in coordinates for the nearest open place that sells the kind of wine his mom is going to want.

* * *

The front door is already opening, even as Mat’s locking the car and walking up with Dante, who waits for him and grabs his hand, interlacing them. It's pretty fucking cold, so Mat appreciates it, the bag with the wine bottles tucked under his free arm, but it's killing him too, Dante’s grip just a little bit too tight. He's nervous, too.

“Hey, we’ll be fine,” Mat mutters, out of the corner of his mouth.

Dante shoots a strained smile at him and squeezes Mat’s hand, and they finish their walk up to Mat’s door.

“Oh, good, you got them,” Mat’s mother says, taking the bag of wine bottles from Mat. “Dante, it’s good to see you; your parents got here about ten minutes ago, and your sisters just barely beat you here.”

Dante smiles at her. “It’s good to see you too.”

His mother just then notices their linked hands and she softens all over. Mat is the worst son, ever. “I’m glad you boys have each other,” she says, very sincerely. She looks almost proud of Mat, and Mat’s earlier feeling of dread is compounded. He's a liar and a fraud and it'll be a miracle if no one figures them out, a second miracle if Dante doesn't figure him out.

Dante blushes and looks down, but Mat can tell that he's tense as fuck. “I like to think I'm pretty lucky.”

Mat knows he's blushing too, so he pushes past his amused mother and pulls Dante further into the house, stripping out of his outer layers and getting empty hangers from the hall closet.

“A sweater?” Dante asks, raising an eyebrow. “That's not your usual style.”

“Gotta impress you somehow,” Mat jokes, but his voice sounds too soft.

“You two are gross,” Liana says, from where she's apparently right in the middle of the other entrance to the hallway. Mat jumps and even Dante looks caught off-guard. Sisters.

“Go away,” Mat grumbles, aware that he's blushing again. Someone should really just kill him.

“Hey,” Dante says to her, unsurely.

“He doesn't deserve you,” Liana says in response, and flounces away before Mat or Dante can say anything in response.

Dante looks somewhat amused, the traitor. “Is that approval?”

“I think so,” Mat says, looking after Liana until he can control what his face is doing. She’s totally right, but also: what the fuck?

When he turns, Dante’s finally unbuttoned his coat, hanging it on the hanger Mat had given him earlier. He’s wearing a classy sweater with a quarter zip, and they’re about to get totally eviscerated. Mat groans. “Dude, we match.”

“What?” Dante asks, confused.

“We match,” Mat says, looking between his dark green sweater and Dante’s scarlet one.

Dante understands this time and snickers. “They're going to think we planned it. We really are good at this.”

“We’re just that good, though,” Mat says softly, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Dante smiles at him. “Yeah, Mat, we’re just that good.”

“Ready?” Mat asks, hanging their jackets up together.

“As I’ll ever be,” Dante says, and holds out his hand until Mat takes it. He's stupidly tense, enough that Mat can tell just from holding his hand and watching him, and once again, Mat regrets this idea, but the only way out is through, so he leads Dante into the living room and their trial by fire.

No one stops talking when they enter the room, but there’s this sort of pause before everyone continues, and it’s too obvious that they’re all stealing glances at the two of them.

“Did we miss anything?” Mat asks, faking cheerfulness as he tugs Dante to one of the available armchairs. It’s made for one person, but they’re dating, supposedly, so pulling Dante onto him isn’t going to get him too many weird looks, and has the added bonus of letting Mat somewhat hide behind Dante. It takes them a couple of moments to sort their limbs, but they settle into something mostly comfortable, Mat letting go of Dante’s hand only to wrap it around his waist. Dante relaxes a bit at the touch, but he’s still a lot of coiled up energy. Mat is going to have to make it up to him, but he’s not sure he can.

“You do match,” Dante’s mother says, sounding surprised.

Mat looks at her in surprise, and then at Liana, who subtly rolls her eyes, obviously not pleased. “Told you they did,” Liana says, smugly, her irritation hidden. Maybe she doesn’t completely suck, even though Mat thought she didn’t know anything.

Dante shrugs. “I didn’t know what Mat was going to wear; I’m honestly surprised he has unripped jeans for Christmas.”

“You’re actually the worst,” Mat says, but he’s laughing anyway, and this feels easier. Dante looks pleased with himself, and he’s melted just a little bit more.

Dante looks even more self-satisfied a moment later. “You’re still dating me, though.”

Fuck, Mat’s heart isn’t going to survive this. “Sure am,” Mat says softly, grinning at Dante. He can pretend this is real, for these few hours. It’ll hurt when it’s over, but it was always going to.

“There are other people here, you two,” Sophia says, sounding amused. She’s smirking at them when Mat looks up, surprised, and her smirk only widens as Mat blushes. Mat’s pretty sure he got his answer to which one of Dante’s sisters thought they were going to defile his car.

“Well, I like Mat better,” Dante retaliates, before blushing and looking at Mat’s parents shyly. “No offence.”

That’s it, Mat’s dead and gone, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Mat still buries his face in Dante’s shoulder because he doesn’t want anyone to see the absolutely stupid expression on his face.

* * *

“Thanks, baby,” Mat says, and dinner is noisy, as it was bound to be with nine of them, but somehow, Mat just had to speak up during the lull in every conversation.

Now everyone is watching Dante refill his wine glass. Mat’s face is burning, and Dante is biting his lip so he doesn’t laugh, Mat’s pretty sure. Liana is definitely having the time of her life, with all this new material she has that she can dangle above Mat’s head. All it took was Mat forgetting for just a fucking second that there are other people here, and now he’s made himself vulnerable to all of them, and that fucking sucks. At least Dante’s face is also red, but that might also be from the couple of glasses of wine he’s already had.

“You never told us,” Dante’s mother starts, breaking the silence, thankfully. “How did you two get together?”

“Uh…” Dante starts, and looks at Mat expectantly.

Never mind, Mat would rather have dealt with the silence than this. He takes a sip of his wine. “Can I plead the fifth?” Mat asks, looking at Dante all wide-eyed, because he doesn’t really know what story they’re going to go with.

“We’re not American,” Dante replies, smirking at Mat. He’s such a shit; Mat slouches in his chair and sulks at Dante.

“Is it really that embarrassing?” Liana asks eagerly.

“Liana,” Mat’s parents both say warningly.

“Now I’m really curious,” Gina says. “Think about it this way: it can’t be as bad as some of the stories I’ve heard from my teammates.”

Mat opens his mouth to answer with whatever comes to mind first, but Dante cuts him off.

“He was in Boston during the UMass back-to-back, on a week long roadie,” Dante says softly. “And he just shows up at my door the day after, when I thought he’d already left, and told me we were going on a date, and that was that.”

He looks up at Mat, and his eyes are also soft, and Mat blushes, clearing his throat. “It had to happen eventually.”

It sounds an awful lot like Mat at the end of November this year, but more than that, it sounds like something that could have happened. Mat can almost see it, exactly how it would go on his end, but his imagination stops dead in its tracks when it comes to how Dante would respond. Even in this fake situation, where Mat knows Dante says yes, he can’t picture what it looks like.

“That sounds like Mat,” Mat’s dad says.

“It’s not that embarrassing,” Sophia says thoughtfully.

Dante smirks. “He was so panicky; it’s like he thought I was going to say no.”

Mat blushes even harder, looking down at the tablecloth so he doesn’t have to look at anyone. Everyone else thinks this is the fake story of how they got together, but it’s also what Mat would do, if he ever asked Dante out. Everything about Dante and feelings makes Mat panicky even though he’s one of Mat’s best friends.

“I did,” Mat says, mostly to the tablecloth, quietly enough that he’s pretty sure Dante’s the only one who caught it, which sort of defeats the purpose of saying it, since it’s Mat’s true feelings on a thing that hasn’t happened but still could, if Mat ever stops being a coward.

When he looks up again, Dante is smiling at him. “You’re such a mess,” Dante says softly.

Mat shrugs at him. “Never denied it.”

“Love you, mess and all,” Dante says, just slightly louder, and he sounds so genuine that Mat has to believe him, believes him almost to the point that he thinks Dante might really be in love with him. But he’s not, and it’s already starting to hurt, and they still have at least a couple hours to go.

Mat knocks his knee into Dante’s under the table, and Dante knocks his into Mat’s as an acknowledgment. Honestly, if Mat didn’t know better, he would think they’re both soft as fuck. Oh wait, they are, and everyone at this table knows it.

* * *

Mat’s stopped right in the doorway of the living room, because he's bumped into Dante, who stopped dead in his tracks and is looking up, his shoulders tight. There's mistletoe above their heads where there wasn't any before and everyone is watching them, and Mat doesn't know what to do, just stands there. He's kissed people before; this shouldn’t be so hard, but it is. It’s Dante and it’s everything Mat wants and everything he’s been letting himself have tonight on the falsest of pretenses and he can’t; he really can’t. He might as well be made of ice; he’s frozen, staring up at the deceptive sprig of green. It takes a lot of effort to tear his eyes away from it and look at Dante, panicking internally.

Dante’s eyes have flickered to Mat’s lips, and he asks the question with a twitch of his eyebrow and whatever Mat does in response as an agreement must be okay enough for Dante, because he closes the distance between them, kissing Mat super gently. Mat kisses back immediately, but it’s over almost as soon as it began, a dream of a kiss. When Dante pulls away, Mat almost wants to touch his lips, a confirmation that that did just happen, but they have family watching who will absolutely not believe it. He’s had feelings before, but none of them have paralysed him the way these ones do.

Dante’s reaching up above their heads and tearing off the mistletoe. “Really?” Dante asks judgmentally.

"It's tradition," Sophia says, teasingly. She’s a demon who deserved every prank Dante threw her way when they were younger.

Mat knows he's bright red, but this is too much for him to handle. When he told Dante that their parents thought they were already dating, this isn't what he expected to happen. He just thought they'd do Christmas dinner together, stage a dramatic breakup afterwards, and that would be the end of it, leaving Mat free to pine over Dante, but this is literally too much. Dante's the sweetest fake boyfriend on the planet, and he's still holding Mat's hand like he has been in every free moment where it’s possible, and now Mat knows what it's like to be kissed by Dante and it's killing him. Dante’s also bright red, but it’s not that comforting when Dante turns red at the drop of a hat, because like, that’s how his face is.

Dante nudges Mat’s elbow and hands him a mug of what Mat thinks is his dad’s peppermint schnapps spiked hot chocolate. He can’t really tell, because he’s already checked out, still stuck on the indisputable fact that Dante kissed him, in front of witnesses. He normally enjoys spiked hot chocolate, which only gets made a few times during the holidays, but every sip feels like a trial, his brain replaying the kiss over and over and over again. He feels too obvious, his face hot, and the wanting written into every part of him. There's no way Dante won't know if Mat doesn't get back to baseline Mat, but he doesn't think he knows how to, anymore. The pet names and the hand-holding is one thing, but kisses are a whole other ballgame, even kisses that are barely kiss enough to be counted as kisses.

“Could we go upstairs?” Dante asks, quietly, a little while later, startling Mat out of his panic. He’s still holding Mat’s free hand, but Mat’s worried that he fucked up and that Dante knows now. He’s just being paranoid. Dante doesn’t know anything yet, but he will if Mat doesn’t get his fucking head straight and stop freaking out about a kiss that was more of a peck than anything.

Mat catches his mother’s eyes and subtly jerks his head towards the stairs.

“Keep the door open,” his mother says, at a normal volume, because apparently everyone has it out for him today, although he’d rather die via Dante than embarrassment.

“Will do,” Mat mumbles, knowing that he’s probably blushing all over again, if he’d ever stopped in the first place.

He knows he's not subtle at all, leaving with Dante, but he's going to burst if he has to sit in that room any longer. He still avoids eye contact with everyone, because he knows it’s just going to embarrass him. Dante's face is red, too, but that's just his face, and maybe the alcohol that he's had, and not any kind of lingering embarrassment. Dante had been hesitant about doing this, but he'd gone along with it. Mat dug his own grave; Dante's just following Mat's lead, and Mat is going to owe him forever.

Mat pushes open the door to his room, and sits on his bed, for lack of anything better to do. His room hasn’t changed that much since the last time Dante saw it, so there’s nothing really distracting about it. It’s neat in the way rooms are when no one lives in them regularly, and half of it is a hockey shrine, and Mat doesn’t want to know what Dante’s about to say, but the most distracting thing is his suitcase, with half his clothes strewn across various surfaces in the room.

“Are you okay?” Dante asks gently. “You got weird after the mistletoe. I thought you were okay with it, but...” He trails off, biting his lip, looking anxious.

“You’re fine; it was fine,” Mat says hoarsely, because this isn’t on Dante at all, just on Mat and his stupid feelings.

He's already missing having Dante's hand in his, but he can't look up at him, interlaces his own fingers together and stares at his lap because he doesn't know how to do this, how not to admit to how warm his chest his feels every time he thinks of Dante. He feels so fucking _obvious._ Dante ends up kneeling on the floor in front of Mat, looking up into his face, forehead creased slightly. "Mat? What are you thinking about?"

The problem with Dante kneeling in front of him is that it's Dante, and he's kneeling in front of Mat, and Mat's brain is easily distracted, and there was that conversation in the car earlier. "Not blowjobs,” Mat replies automatically, and then blushes. “I mean—I didn’t mean it like that, I just—could you sit on the bed? You're—distracting."

He really didn't mean to say that last part out loud. He's such an idiot. Mat was already not getting out of this evening with his dignity intact, but Dante listens, sitting next to Mat. He does look like he might be laughing at Mat internally, but Mat’ll give him a pass, because he really does deserve to be laughed at for that one. He’s also turning red again, but that’s to be expected, considering the shit that Mat just said.

“Well?” Dante asks patiently, shifting until he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mat.

“So it might be my fault that our parents think we’re dating,” Mat admits, finally, because he can’t say any other thing. Dante would’ve picked out any lie that Mat would say, so all that’s left to him is the truth, and Mat is going to throw up; he really is. His heart is racing like he’s on a post-game high, but it’s panic, pure and simple.

“You told them we were dating?” Dante asks, and he sounds kinda pissed. Mat doesn't blame him, because that would be a shitty thing to do without even talking to Dante about it.

“No! I wish it were that easy, though,” Mat says, thoroughly miserable, because chances are that nothing between him and Dante is going to be the same after this. He just wanted to pine, but unfortunately his parents, and Dante’s parents, and fucking Christmas were all conspiring against him. He thinks he might start crying and that’s horrifying on its own because Mat doesn’t cry; he’s a hockey player and he’s better than that, except apparently not.

Dante wraps an arm around Mat, sounding and looking worried. “Okay, so why did they think we were dating?”

This is going to suck so hard, but if Mat doesn’t tell the truth, Dante will know, and that’ll suck even more. Mat twists his hands together and lets himself lean into Dante a little, because this is—it’s not a friendship-ruining thing, but that doesn’t mean things won’t be awkward. It might be a friendship-ruining thing; why did Mat suggest them fake dating in the first place? “So I kind of like you so much that my parents figured it out from here while I was in New York, and if I said we weren’t they’d have set us up which would be a million times more awkward and I thought at least this way they won’t bother me about it again and…” He swallows and keeps talking, trying to explain it because he doesn’t know what he’ll do, if he loses Dante, and it’s starting to sound ridiculous once said aloud. It is pretty fucking ridiculous; what kind of person commits to fake-dating rather than just saying ‘sorry, i’m not dating that person?’ Mat, apparently.

Dante shakes him with the arm that’s still around Mat. “Mat, you couldn’t just have asked me about it?” He sounds like he might be smiling. Mat really hopes he’s smiling, but like, not because he’s about to be a dick.

“I didn’t want you to say no to me,” Mat says breathlessly, his voice small. He’s hopeful again and he hates it so much, knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch when he’s let down again.

“Well, I wouldn’t have then, and I wouldn’t—I won’t now, either. I went along with your actually really fucking stupid fake dating scheme,” Dante says, and he actually is smiling, and he still hasn’t dashed Mat’s hopeful heart to the ground.

“I thought you were just being a good bro, or going along with it for fun or whatever,” Mat says, but there’s a smile waiting to burst out. Mat is still afraid that this isn’t going to go the way he wants it to, but it really, _really_ sounds like it’s going the way Mat wants it to.

“In case you don’t remember, I kissed you about twenty minutes ago, so if I ask you really, really nicely, will you actually date me?” Dante asks, and he’s turning red everywhere, but combined with the expression on his face, it’s mostly just really cute.

“I thought that was just because there was mistletoe,” Mat says, so he doesn’t have to focus on the second part of that sentence.

“I could’ve just kissed your cheek,” Dante says, rolling his eyes fondly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want to date you too,” Mat says, leaning a little more into Dante. Somehow he doesn’t think Dante will mind too much.

“I’m glad,” Dante says dryly. “Or that would make things really awkward.”

“Shut up,” Mat says, but he sounds way too fond, and stupid.

“Nope, you can’t make me,” Dante says, because he is, at heart, a little shit.

“Yes I can,” Mat says, and to prove it, he leans towards Dante to kiss him.

When he pulls away, Dante is smiling at him, soft and fond. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and it's perfect. What makes it better is Dante kissing Mat again, actually kissing him, nothing like their kiss under the mistletoe, Dante’s whole body turned to Mat, a hand coming up to cradle Mat’s jaw. Mat feels dizzy, drunker on being kissed than on the wine, turns that kiss into a series of them, kisses just for the sake of kissing, slow and sweet and thorough. It’s Christmas and Mat’s the happiest he’s been in months, present in the moment and caught on Dante’s lips.

There’s a muffled shriek from the hallway, so Mat reluctantly pulls away from Dante and blinks at the open doorway. It’s Liana, of course, with impeccable timing.

“We were just kissing,” Mat says, grumpily. He wants to go back to kissing Dante; now that they’re together for real, Mat wants to spend every available moment with him. Being apart is going to be unbearable. 

“I was supposed to be calling you for dessert, but I think you’re good,” Liana says, recovering pretty quickly, back to her usual shows-Mat-no-mercy self.

Dante’s biting his lip, which is a whole new form of unfair when Mat actually can kiss him every time he does it. “Sorry,” he offers up, but he doesn’t look all that sorry.

“I’m going to tell Mom you were hooking up,” Liana says, her eyes fixed on Mat. She’s evil; she knows their parents will totally believe her over him.

“We weren’t hooking up, and we  _ did  _ leave the door open,” Dante says, rolling his eyes, running a hand over Mat’s back.

Liana raises her eyebrows at him. “So? What would have happened if I didn’t come up here?” 

Mat’s blushing uncontrollably, because he really just wanted to kiss Dante, and still just wants to kiss Dante, but now that Liana’s mentioned it, he's thinking about it. He wants that, too, but it's secondary when he feels lazy and full and content to kiss Dante until his lips are numb. 

“...No one’s going to do anything with the door open,” Dante says, after an uncomfortably long silence. Mat hides his face in the side of Dante’s neck.

“Fine,” Liana says. “I guess I’ll believe you, since you’re Mat’s other, most definitely better, half. You get two minutes to come down before I tell everyone that you were hooking up up here.”

“She’s gone,” Dante says, a few seconds later. “You can stop hiding.”

Mat presses a kiss to the skin he was just hiding his face in. “I don’t want to go. back”

Dante shrugs, running a hand through Mat’s hair. “Neither do I, babe.”

Mat’s blushing again; he’s twenty one years old and should be past the point of blushing for every little thing, but apparently not. He leans in to steal another kiss, except he doesn’t think it can be called stealing when Dante’s just as into it, smiling too hard to kiss properly for more than a few seconds.

Dante presses his forehead against Mat’s, and he’s giggling giddily. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s definitely real,” Mat promises, running a hand down Dante’s arm till he reaches his hand, lacing them together, smiling so much his cheeks ache. 

“I don’t think I imagined any situation with Liana in it, so yeah, definitely the real deal,” Dante says, squeezing Mat’s hand. “The real thing is way better than my imagination, anyway.”

Mat’s heart is going to burst with fondness; he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he’s doing the very opposite of complaining. He really isn’t trying to stop himself from kissing Dante one last time before they really do have to go downstairs, takes the time to make it a good one, lingering.

“Ready to face the firing squad, babe?” Mat jokes.

“I have you, so it can’t possibly be that bad,” Dante says, squeezing Mat’s hand.

Mat’s heart skips a beat, but it’s Christmas with the boy he loves, who finally knows that Mat loves him. He thinks he’s earned a bit of sentimentality.

**Author's Note:**

> -title from harbour's 'with love' (the lyrics are...a lot...)  
> -a huge huge HUGE thank you to ash, who helped me plot this, and many thanks to ash, ellie, amanda, and nat for all the cheerleading and validating through the entire process of this fic bc it was a Journey.  
> -seids is still an isle because when i started this fic i didn't know whether it was going to be set this past season or in the future, and i'd already written that scene by the time i remembered dante played world juniors but it was fucking funny.  
> -the terriers are in boston when the isles play the bruins bc ellie said so  
> -i'm sure the fabbros are lovely, but i'm still side-eyeing them really hard based on some of the rumours floating around about dante's decision to go ncaa vs the dub. they're not meant to be villains, but like. mat's a hella unreliable narrator.


End file.
